Page 9 of Keep Your Friends Close and Your… Work Enemy Closer?

"It's about damn time," my mom said. "You haven't brought home a girl since Kimberly."

"We don't speak of Kimberly," I jokingly reminded her, not wanting to even think about my ex-fiancée, especially since I'd never had the heart to tell my mom and grandma the whole story, that she'd broken up with me when they'd moved in.

We were all a package deal now. If a woman wanted to be with me, she had to be okay with them too. And that was pretty much an impossibility, something Kimberly had made abundantly clear. No sane woman would want to marry a man who lived with his "mommy and granny." Those words still lived rent-free in my head a year later.

I said my goodbyes and headed for the door, my grandma handing me an iced coffee on my way out. And who needed Starbucks when she lived here?

Yet another nice thing about having them here.

Screw Kimberly. It was the right thing to do, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I hadn't taken them in.

My driver knew the drill about where I was headed and what I was doing, so after a brief exchange of pleasantries, he was quiet as he focused on the snarl of traffic, horns, and chaos that constituted the morning commute in Manhattan.

I checked my emails but soon grew distracted by the sudden urge to research ways to annoy your co-workers. What I found instead of the actual list I'd been hoping for was people complaining about their obnoxious cubicle neighbors. But it turned out to be exactly what I needed.

I'd have to bring nail clippers to work tomorrow. But I did have chewing gum with me today and an iced drink to slurp on. I smiled just thinking about the way Dee's eyes would narrow at me.

Whenever I did the undercover thing, part of the gig was going in and trying to rile people up on purpose, just to see their reaction. It gave me a lot of insight into the culture. But until now, I'd never had so much fun with it.

Ed dropped me off two blocks away so I could walk the rest of the way because Jared would most certainly not ride in a car to work. He'd be hoofing it for sure after taking a long subway ride in, wrinkled suit and all.

Riding the elevator up, I found myself oddly excited, more excited than I ever was going into my real office, even though I loved what I did. I really liked the Insight Ink office, the open layout, the brightness of it, the energetic, positive vibe. I'd have to see who'd planned it out and commend them for a job well done.

Cordelia was already at her desk, hard at work, her blonde hair perfectly straight, not a single strand out of place.

"Good morning," I said.

"You're late."

"Five minutes is not late."

"It is in my book. There's a fresh stack of manuscripts I just added to your pile."

I wiggled around in my chair, making that squeaky, squawky sound I could tell drove her crazy. "What, no 'How was your weekend, Jared?' 'I had a lovely weekend, thank you. And you?'"

She turned to finally look at me, fire burning in her amber eyes. "My weekend was lovely, thank you. And you?" she spit out, venom in her voice.

"Just lovely." I took a sip of my drink. "Went to London for a little weekend jaunt."

"Haha. Very funny. And I went to Monaco for a shopping spree and high stakes gambling."

Monaco. Now that was interesting. "You like Monaco?"

"Never been," she said shortly. She picked up a deflated balloon from her desk, chopped it up into several smaller pieces, and stuck it all in the trash can under her desk. "By the way, it's Marcella's birthday this coming Friday."

"Who's Marcella?"

"She works in design. I'm sure you met her last week."

I racked my brain, vaguely remembering the tour I'd been given and all the people I'd met. "Right. So it's her birthday?"

"Yes. And as the person who had the most recent birthday, it's my job to collect and plan for the next one. We have a pay it forward policy."

"Wouldn't that be more of a pay it backward policy?"

She aggressively rolled her eyes at me. "Whatever. Anyway, if you could donate toward the cause, that would be great."

"Donate?" Was this a normal thing in offices that CEOs were usually exempt from? "You want money from me?"

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